


Better Man

by beaches_at_treasure_island



Series: In the Flesh - Canon OTP [4]
Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Declarations Of Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, How Do I Tag, I Made Myself Cry, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Idiots in Love, Love Conquers All, M/M, Siren, recounting of events, sieren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 11:23:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2426924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beaches_at_treasure_island/pseuds/beaches_at_treasure_island
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Simon saves Kieren from Pearl's bullet, he whisks his boyfriend away. He has some serious explaining to do...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Man

Simon’s arm is wrapped around Kieren’s shoulders as they wander across the field behind the graveyard where Simon had saved Kieren’s unlife only minutes prior. When they get far enough away from the people who had stared at them, Simon stops and sits, pulling Kieren down with him. They are at the edge of the field, near where Gary’s car had been. He had high-tailed it out of there shortly after Simon had knocked him away. Kieren now props himself against Simon, sitting between his legs, back to chest. His head is curled against Simon’s chest, just under his throat.

“I love you,” Simon announces almost indifferently, as though it is a fact that he is reciting, memorised for school from a flashcard and undisputable. He peers down at Kieren, who has tilted his head to look up at him, and repeats himself, this time in a tone that is awash with emotion. “I love you, Kieren Walker.” They’ve not yet said it to each other, never saw a need to verbalize it. It’s been less than two weeks, but they both know it’s true.

“Simon,” Kieren whispers back in gentle admiration. “Oh, Simon, I –”

“No, wait. I don’t want you to say it; not yet. We need to talk first,” Simon explains. Simon is so serious that Kieren knows something is up. This isn’t his “preaching to the flock” seriousness, but his “deader than we are” seriousness.

“Okay. So talk.” Kieren draws back so he can face Simon properly.

“It’s...difficult. I don’t know how best to tell you, really. It’s – complicated.” Simon shakes his head, eyes shut, and takes a calming breath. “I guess I’ll start with just before I died.

“I was twenty-eight, a drugged up college graduate with a useless degree in classical literature. I had a boyfriend, Alexander – he’s the one that got me started on drugs, or maybe it was the other way around. I don’t know, can’t remember much of that time.” Simon can’t bring himself to look at Kieren. He is ashamed of that period in his first life. “When I decided I was going to leave Dublin to go to London, where I had been offered a job, he dumped me. I remember thinking he was the love of my life – I was wrong, but I didn’t know that then. I never loved him, only thought that I did.

“That sent me spiralling into depression. I don’t think I really meant to kill myself, to overdose like that – I was just chasing a high that never came. When you start doing drugs, nobody tells you that the first time is the best hit you get, and the addiction causes you to keep trying to feel that way again. So you keep shooting up, you keep taking drugs, thinking ‘this time; this time I’ll get it’, and it never comes.

“And I overdid it. I didn’t want to feel any emotions, didn’t want to think about Alexander, so I kept shooting up, over and over... And then, nothing. Until the Rising. I remember pounding at the lid until it shattered, pressing up through the still-loose soil, and the wind on my face as I climbed out of the grave. And then it goes dark for awhile.

“I can remember most of the treatment center. I was the first to respond to the neurotriptyline. The scientists wanted me to help them, to do experiments on me. They promised that if I helped them, they could help me stop looking like...this.” Simon gestures at his face, then the rest of himself. “So I volunteered.

“It was awful, Kieren. Nobody should have to go through that. I wouldn’t wish it even on my worst enemies.” He finally works up the courage to look at Kieren, who has thick, black tears running down his cheeks. Simon pulls out the handkerchief he was buried with and uses it to wipe up the fluid. “At first, it was nothing much – they used the treatment port to access what they needed. But one day, when I lay on that...table... I felt the pressure along my spine as they cut me open. I told them I didn’t feel right by them cutting me open, and that I wanted to stop, but they wouldn’t listen.” Simon sheds his suit jacket and loosens his tie. He starts unbuttoning his shirt, but Kieren stops him.

“You don’t – you don’t have to... if you don’t want to show me.” Kieren had known that Simon had issues with his back but never thought it was because of some twisted experiment that Halperin and Weston had put him through.

“No, you need to see. It’s import, to me, to us. And for my story.” Simon finishes with the buttons and the shirt joins the tie and coat. He turns slightly, enough for Kieren to see the majority of the incision. A few vertebrae below the port where PDS sufferers get their treatment each day, the cut starts, and ends right above the line Simon’s back dimples appear on. The gap between the flaps of skin are wider the lower it gets. Simon bears no stitches, and Kieren sees a flash of bone-white before Simon turns back.

“Was that your – your spine? Where are the stitches? Did they not even think to stitch you up?” Kieren feels rage. They cut his boyfriend open, used him, then threw him away like he was disposable.

“Yeah, that’s my spine. They told me ‘it won’t cause any adverse effects’ by leaving it open, and that the thread was needing for the others. As though they couldn’t get more.” Simon grimaces but continues on with his tale, halting whatever Kieren’s response would have been.

“After that surgery, they left me open on that table. I couldn’t move my head, or look anywhere but in front of me. But I heard someone there, speaking. His words resonated in me, and I found out from another test subject, Julian, that he was known as the Undead Prophet, and that he was starting a gathering of followers. But I disregarded it all for my father, who was coming to take me home. To a new home, not in Dublin.

“My father... When he came to meet me at the treatment center, he didn’t have my mother with him. He wouldn’t tell me what had happened – I only knew it wasn’t something good. So he took me to his new house.

“Everything seemed fine. He went out and got fish and chips for dinner, and I hadn’t the heart to tell him that we couldn’t eat. He was so happy that I was home – well, I thought he was happy. Until I asked about my mum. His entire demeanor changed when I brought her up.

“I still don’t know the details. From what he said, I found my way to our home in Dublin from my grave, and I – I killed her.” Simon shuts up for a moment, breathing heavily. Kieren rests a comforting hand on Simon’s thigh, and Simon glances at him with graditude. “We played chess before bed in stilted silence, and then settled in for the night. Neither of us could sleep. I heard my father sobbing for those few hours. I could only stare at her picure. Then he burst in. He shattered our family picture – him, mum and I – and said I didn’t deserve to look at her.

“My father shoved my things into a rucksack and threw me out. I meandered around Dublin for a few days until I made up my mind. And so I called up the Prophet, and he welcomed me with open arms. Literally. It was the first real human contact I had made since the Rising that wasn’t for experiments or because someone had to touch me.

“And so I joined the Undead Liberation Army as the Prophet’s twelfth Disciple. I was given missions, mainly to go out and gather more followers, to bring people to our cause. Until Amy, that is.

“There is a prophecy that says the first person who rose has to be sacrificed in order for the Second Rising to occur. After the Prophet learned that the first town to experience the Rising was Roarton, he decided that the mission was made for me. And since Amy was from Roarton, who better to send along with me. My mission was to find the First Risen and report it to the Prophet.” Simon stares at Kieren, whose mind hasn’t caught up with the events of the day, Zoe’s words and their connection to what Simon is revealing.

“That day that you invited me over and introduced me to your parents, do you remember what you said to Gary? About the clock chiming midnight as you crawled from your coffin, with nobody else around? It’s you, Kieren. You are the First Risen. And even though I cared for you then, I was still firmly in the ULA’s corner. So I told them that I had the First.” Before Kieren can panic any more than he already is, Simon adds, “I didn’t name you. The only people who know that you are the First Risen reside in Roarton. Zoe, Brian and the others.

“So I was called into the city to receive further orders. The day that I was missing – I was meeting Julian. The Prophet sent him with a video containing my new mission. And when it sunk in, I – I panicked. I couldn’t have gotten worse news.

“So it was spoken to me by the Prophet: You must sacrifice the First Risen on the twelfth hour of the twelfth day of the twelfth month. The First Risen must be destroyed. Only then can the Second Resurrection occur.

“I think my first reaction was confusion, then disbelief. Denial followed, and by the time Julian handed over the package of weapons, I was falling into shock. I should have been gone an hour later, but the shock didn’t last long before it turned to full blown panic. I’m sure that I must have worn a hole in that carpet from my pacing,” Simon joked feebly.

“Then I’m in the corner, hunched under the window next to the radiator. The noises sent me into a flashback of those wretched experiments in the treatment center. I couldn’t think about anything but how Weston treated me for the longest time until the radiator shut itself off.

“But it hardened my resolve. The Prophet had come as my savior when I needed him most, and I decided I would return the favour. And then I saw you today.

“I saw that HVF jackass pour the Blue Oblivion into your port, and then how you ran to the cemetery and tried to incapacitate yourself to protect the others from you. And when you went rabid, I saw you fight it. Nobody’s ever come back from that before, Kier. Not one.

“And that’s when I knew I couldn’t live without you – or exist, or whatever. I needed you, and if you were gone, there would be nothing left for me. Amy pales in comparison to you, love. That’s how I made my decision, to save you.”

Simon is afraid to look at Kieren, and instead turns his attention to the ground, where he plucks blades of dead grass from the soil despondently. Kieren finally lets out a noise that causes Simon to raise his head. In front of him, Kieren is pressing his fist to his mouth, sniffling as goobs of black gunk slide down his face. Immediately, Simon uses his handkerchief again, astonished that Kieren isn’t flinching away from his touch.

“Simon,” Kier mutters in amazement. “Simon, none of that was your fault. Don’t you see? Everyone uses you, it seems. Alexander, your father, those scientists, and most importantly, the Undead Prophet. You can only blame them for taking advantage of your vulnerabilities, not yourself.”

Simon shakes his head. “I let them, though. I volunteered for the experiments, and I willingly joined the ULA. I did ask for it.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree for now, but I will change your mind – sooner or later,” Kieren relents. Then he does what he’s been wanting to do for a while now. He pulls Simon into a hug and whispers into his ear, “I love you, Simon Monroe.”


End file.
